


wanna make you feel alive

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: sterek holiday special 2018 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Developing Relationship, Easter, Gen, Harry Potter References, Knotting, Light-Hearted, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, No Angst, Pack Bonding, Possessive Behavior, Reese's Cups, Reese's Easter Eggs, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Tattoos, just a happy lil fic for y'all, slight nothing creepy or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: “Okay, so,” Stiles looks up, around the room, “Easter egg Reese’s versus regular Reese’s cups.”Derek is laughing and rolling his eyes, the asshole, while everyone else looks on in confusion.





	wanna make you feel alive

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in love with this fic so much y'all have no idea. Just a happy lil Easter fic for my collection, a nice break with a teensy bit of smut.
> 
> title from "Junk of The Heart (Happy)" by The Kooks
> 
> next part will be out ??? hopefully within the next week or so; trying so hard to catch up

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Stiles moans, pushing back against Derek’s dick driving into him, deep and rough in all the best ways, “Holy fucking _hell_.”

Derek grunts in response above him, hands gripping his boyfriend’s waist just a little harder, against bruises already there because this – Stiles kneeling on the bed, ass in the air and propped up on his elbows, Derek behind him and holding his hips, Stiles’ face in the pillows – this is Derek’s second favorite position and easier for Stiles because Derek? Is a little on the big side, and more than that –

“God fuck, Derek, harder,” Stiles tries, setting against his elbows and leveraging himself back, “To the right, you fucker.”

Derek complies without complaint or comment, though the pinpricks against Stiles’ skin lets him know Derek’s _close_ , oh god, but the explosion of pleasure when he moves slightly has Stiles’ stripping his own cock, once, twice, the light yet new pressure against his hole sending him over and “Oh fuck, oh hell fuck,” Stiles is coming and he falls, elbows letting out beneath him and it’s only Derek’s grip on his hips that keeps his ass up as he bites the pillow, shaking.

The light pressure grows as he fades back into reality and then Derek’s knot is locking, claws pricking Stiles’ skin just barely as his thrusts shallow, forced into place. His cock is shoved up against Stiles’ prostate and, too sensitive, but he comes again, barely. It’s enough to push Derek over, shoving in as deep as possible and letting out a half growl, half dying donkey sound, and if Stiles hadn’t literally one second ago come, would have thrown him into a fit of laughter.

“God fuck,” he says instead, moving slightly at the barely there feeling of hot come filling him. Derek drops forward, catching himself and carefully moving them onto their sides, occasionally thrusting shallowly, still coming and he will be, at least for the next while.

It’s a couple minutes before they catch their breath, Derek kissing and nibbling on Stiles’ neck through it, arms around his middle and Stiles…he totally preens in it, loves the attention Derek smothers him in after every time they have sex but especially when Derek knots him. it’s such a win-win situation, because Stiles loves the stretch, the continuous feeling of being filled for anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, and he loves how attentive Derek is post, and Derek gets so much out of it, too.

And it’s the second reason they’ve been fucking in that position so much lately; it’s easier when knotting is happening, because they can comfortably spoon while it goes down.

And _damn_ , but they’d had sex pretty regularly before (Stiles always has been a horny fuck and he’s twenty-three but it hasn’t worn off but in the slightest since he was a teenager, and Derek’s instincts and Stiles’ _smell_ , god he always smells too good), but it’s picked up lately.

For one, to help burn off all Stiles’ excess energy he has as he settles into his new powers, but also the bond’s been growing, getting stronger, and Derek swears that every once in a while he can feel a ghost of Stiles’ feelings. Stiles hasn’t felt anything like that, yet, but also has noticed the extra feelings of _needing_ to be around Derek, and he’s practically moved in, by now, spends six out of seven nights there.

And now that it’s been a few minutes, Stiles’ breathing evening out and just enjoying the feeling of Derek on him, in him, surrounding him, Derek’s moved on now too; onto Stiles’ tattoos.

They’re scattered across his upper right arm, shoulder, and a little into his chest, a couple runes of protection and one to help him harness his powers, but most symbols of pack. There’s one, one of the largest, that Derek likes to focus on, will often stare at when Stiles is shirtless, licks and rubs after sex, on his upper back/shoulder area.

A triskele.

Derek’s had a triskele tattoo “since I was nineteen, I got it that summer in between first and second year of college”, big, spanning his whole back. He’d told Stiles it was a family symbol; Talia had a necklace with a triskele on it, Laura got a tattoo on her ankle and Cora had a bracelet. A Hale pack symbol that meant the meeting of three, it meant different things to different people during different times.

“Alpha, beta, omega,” Derek had shrugged, “Moon, human, wolf.” Laughed. “Think some people use it in Catholicism to mean, like, the Holy Trinity. Dunno, it’s been my family’s thing since I was born and I’ve used it since I was a teenager to help me control my ‘wolf.”

When Stiles had discussed with Isaiah the tattoos he wanted that day, a triskele had been on the top of the list; to remind him of pack because Derek, without a doubt in his mind, he _is_ pack. And scattered amongst runes and symbols of the rest of his pack, Derek loved looking at it, touching it, tracing it.

A zing, similar to when they’d first kissed, too much like it, actually, goes through him as Derek touches it, almost reverently, now. Snapping the bond further into place.

This _is_ the man he’s going to spend the rest of his god damn life with, Stiles thinks, body rolling at the bites Derek’s putting around his shoulders and back now.

It’s yet another few minutes of silence, of stuttered breaths and a little while of soft making out as well as they can, Derek’s hot breath against Stiles’ back, before Stiles’ stomach growls.

Not loudly, but then they’re literally less than a centimeter apart and Derek’s a _werewolf_. His arms tighten slightly at first before he realizes what it was and then he’s looking at Stiles with a ‘wtf’ expression on. Stiles shrugs, opens his palm and Derek feels the tell-tale sign of magic through the air and then Stiles’ bag, which had been hanging on the hook beside the bedroom door that Derek _may_ have gotten _just_ for Stiles’ bag that he carries almost everywhere, comes flying over the bed and into Stiles hand.

“You’re gonna get so lazy if you keep using magic for every little thing,” Derek comments, choosing to ignore Stiles’ stomach for now (not like there’s anything they _can_ do, anyway, not with his dick _literally_ stuck in Stiles’ ass) and falls back into the pillow, sleepy.

“Mhmm,” Stiles hums, obviously not actually listening to him as he rifles through his bag until he pulls out –

“The best part of Easter,” he comments, handing a bright orange wrapper to Derek, and it’s an egg-shaped Reese’s.

“I think you might actually be going to hell purely for that comment,” Derek replies, taking it. Stiles snorts, ripping his open.

“Your dick is in me right this second and you’re telling me that?” He shoves half the treat in his mouth, moaning around it and Derek’s _not_ jealous of a fucking piece of candy, he’s _not_.

“I’m good,” he says in lieu of _any jealousy_ , dropping the Reese’s on the bed in front of his boyfriend and Stiles makes a noise of offense, turning his head to stare at Derek with disdain in his eyes.

“I’m not sure I can do this with someone who would turn down an Easter Reese’s,” he tells Derek, who snorts, kissing the back of Stiles’ neck again.

“What makes them better than regular Reese’s?” he asks, and Stiles shoves the remaining half of the egg in his mouth, tries talking around it.

“Be’er pea’ut bu’ah to talklate wafio,” he explains, grabbing his water bottle (by which he means, propelling it from the dresser a few feet away into his hand) and guzzling it to halfway empty. Derek’s looking at him with raised eyebrows, and he repeats himself once he’s done.

“Better peanut butter to chocolate ratio.”

“And what if I prefer a higher chocolate ratio?” Derek asks, because he’s a little bit of a health fiend, but when chocolate’s involved…well, at least he’s gotten better about it over the years, but he still prefers, given a choice, chocolate over anything else.

Stiles sends him a purely _dirty_ look.

“Like I said, I’m not sure I can do this with someone who prefers chocolate over peanut butter.”

Derek laughs again, sending a vibration through his body that feels maybe a smidgen too good to Stiles, who pushes back against Derek’s knot and that starts everything over again.

The other Reese’s egg is pushed off the bed, forgotten for now.

*

It’s later, after a languid shower including more sex (Stiles’ ass can only handle so much, but god he’s willing to push it for Derek’s beautiful dick), an extended grocery trip, and an hour of watching Derek edit his thesis (well, Stiles is _technically_ reading, but it’s nothing versus the entertainment he gets from watching the facial expressions while Derek edits, thrown in with the occasional “what the hell were you thinking, Derek,” and grumbles). Now he and Derek, with the occasional help from Kira, are making a lentil curry for themselves, Allison, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Erica, and Boyd; the other three are working.

Stiles is munching on another egg-shaped Reese’s in the midst, and Derek’s amused look has him summoning a notepad and a pencil and at the island, clearing a space and creating a chart as everyone watches curiously.

“Okay, so,” Stiles looks up, around the room, “Easter egg Reese’s versus regular Reese’s cups.”

Derek is laughing and rolling his eyes, the asshole, while everyone else looks on in confusion.

“Lydia,” Stiles starts with, since she’s closest to him.

“Are we talking taste or texture or what?” she asks, always the fucking scientist. Stiles _doesn’t_ roll his eyes, though hell he wants to, but he _does_ wave away her question with his hand.

“Just general likeability.”

“Regular Reese’s. I’m not a heathen,” she says as primly as she ever says anything, and Stiles –

“How was I ever into you?” he asks with some disgust. Lydia huffs a laugh, while Derek looks at him curiously, a clear “I’m asking later” in his expression. Stiles ignores him for now (reminding himself that, regardless of the fact that his entire hometown knew, not _everyone_ knows about his once-crush on Lydia) and moves onto Jackson.

“Neither. I don’t like chocolate and I don’t like peanut butter.”

“And that’s why we never got along,” Stiles comments, and Jackson smirks.

“Nah, that’s ‘cause you’re a weird dork.”

“Not ‘cause you’re a jerk and an asshole?” Stiles returns. Jackson makes a face at him, which Stiles throws back and Lydia’s rolling her eyes between them, Allison’s sighing, Scott’s snickering.

“Yeah, whatever, you guys love each other now, high school’s over,” Lydia says, and both Jackson and Stiles make outraged noises at the thought that they love each other but Lydia holds up her hands toward both of them and looks to Erica, who’s next.

“Easter egg, duh,” she says, reaching over to snatch some of Stiles’ that’s laying half eaten on the counter, “Chocolate can suck it, it’s barely needed just to complement the delicious peanut butter.”

“Woman after my own heart,” Stiles murmurs, making a mark on the paper, and Erica winks at him.

“I’d be down if Boyd and Derek wouldn’t literally rip us apart.”

Boyd just smiles softly at Erica – man’s so whipped he’s basically butter – while Derek, who’s stirring the huge pot of curry, raises an eyebrow at his beta.

Stiles has moved on to look at Boyd.

“Easter egg. I don’t do milk chocolate, so the less, the better.”

“Mm-mm,” Stiles tallies another, “I’d be down for a threesome if y’all are up.”

Both Erica and Boyd laugh, but Derek actually lets out a subvocal growl, causing everyone to else to glance over. Stiles smirks, throwing a look over his shoulder.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure I’m literally radiating your scent, no need for jealousy. I don’t think another ‘wolf would come within ten feet of me with any intentions right now.”

And the tips of Derek’s ears are very much red, but he still grumbles approvingly.

Stiles moves on with “Ally?” as she’s next.

“I’m with Lyds on this. Regular all the way, it’s perfectly balanced.”

“I want you to know I feel betrayed by my own pack,” Stiles comments, begrudging, marking another for regular.

Kira shrugs when they look to her, where she’s chopping veggies.

“I mean, what’s the real difference?”

_Everyone_ looks at her like she’s crazy.

“The ratio of chocolate to peanut butter,” Stiles says slowly. Kira shrugs again.

“Sure, but the difference is really negligible. The only reason we eat each is the time of year.”

Quiet, for a few moments.

“So your decision is…?” Stiles asks, and Kira shakes her head.

“Neither. Neither one is better than the other, they’re equal.”

“Then I guess it’s up to you, Scott, to break the tie.”

“Neither. Christmas trees win every time.”

Everyone’s quiet as they take that in, then a murmur of assent from Erica, Kira shrugging again, Jackson whispering, “Nah, still gross,” and everyone else just thinking.

“So…can I mark that down as egg since the choc/pb ratio is generally the same?”

“Or would it make more sense for it to be its own category, since we can be sure it’s actually the same and we wouldn’t be able to test it properly until Christmas,” Lydia points out.

“Sure, but they’re kinda made the same way; formed and covered, instead of however the hell they make the cups, so. It’s gotta be close enough.”

“No,” Derek speaks up for the first time since this all started, “I’d have to put it in its own category as well. Christmas trees are not Easter eggs are not Reese’s cups.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you don’t wanna lose,” Stiles grumbles.

“Or,” Allison draws the word out, “Scott could just choose from the given categories and settle the score.”

“Or Scott could abstain altogether like Jackson and Kira,” Scott argues, except that Stiles shoots him looks, squinty suspicious eyes and all. He shrugs.

“I’ve never had an egg one, so I can’t make an unbiased choice.”

“Aha!” Stiles reaches into the pocket of the hoodie he’s wearing, producing an egg Reese’s almost like magic (except that Stiles, even with as much as he can do and is continuing to learn, _can’t_ conjure things from thin air) and tosses it over to Scott. It’s only because he’s an alpha werewolf that he manages to catch it, as suddenly as it is.

“Erica, could you get some plates and silverware? Curry’s almost done,” Derek interjects. Erica nods as Stiles encourages Scott to open and eat, Kira’s throwing her chopped veggies in the bowl with the rest of the salad while laughing, Lydia’s rolling her eyes again and Jackson’s ignoring them all, on his phone.

“Dunno,” Scott says as he eats, Erica placing the plates on the counter by Derek, who shuts off the stove and stirs one last time, “Not better than the tree – ”

“A given, since they’re literally the same with a different shape,” Stiles cuts in, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.

“ – but maybe better than the regular? Maybe?”

“I’m taking it as a win!” Stiles shouts, causing grumbles and glares all around that he totally ignores, marking one more on the “egg” side of his chart and turning to Derek, “Suck it, eggs are better than cups.”

Derek hums, dropping a kiss on his boyfriend’s temple and pushing a plate into his hands.

“Mhm, honey, sure. Get some food before the ‘wolves take it all.”

Stiles cheeks do _not_ go red and blotchy, even when Kira coos and Allison lets out an “aww” and Boyd’s watching them with a smile and Jackson looks annoyed at the affair and Scott pretends to gag.

*

Of course, when Derek asks Stiles why he uses the summoning spell so much, whether he’s actually lazier than suspected, Stiles _does_ go a little red.

“It makes me feel like a wizard.”

When Derek cocks his head to the side, curious (he looks like a dog, honestly he does but Stiles stops himself from saying anything). Stiles goes a little more red.

“Accio. Harry Potter.”

Derek _laughs_ for ages.

**Author's Note:**

> totally not sure about that smut but I wrote it and I edited it and ugh oh well it's out now
> 
> you can find me occasionally at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com)
> 
> don't post my shit on goodreads or other like sites, thank you
> 
> lemme know if there are any errors, I seem to have a penchant for bad editing, AND THANK YOU


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